


To be in Love

by tenshi13



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Blushing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 19:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenshi13/pseuds/tenshi13
Summary: Crowley considers how it's possible for a being that senses love to not realise how much Crowley cares for him.





	To be in Love

It’s amazing isn’t it, how someone can be so intelligent but at the same time just… so incredibly _dumb_. Crowley knows Aziraphale is clever. He knows it because he’s spent millennia besides him, and they’ve learnt all they know together. Except for the tiny, insignificant fact that Crowley’s in love with him.

He’s never tried to hide it. From Hell sure, he’d be screwed if they knew, but never from Aziraphale. What would be the point after all, of hiding from a being that can sense love? So forgive him then if it took a few millennia to realise that Aziraphale had no bastard clue.

It started when they were drunk in the back of the bookshop, as he gestured wildly with the hand clutched around a half full wine glass. The liquid sloshed dangerously, but the spillage dematerialised before it hit the floor. “My point is,” he slurred, “My point is…” what was his point again? No, he’d completely lost his train of thought. He stared at Aziraphale for a long moment, brows furrowed intensely.

Out of the blue, Aziraphale blurts, “Crowley, did you and that barmaid ever…” He made a crude gesture with his hands and raised his eyebrows pointedly, “You know.”

He nearly spat out his wine, but couldn’t resist such an easy set-up, “I’m afraid,” he stumbled a little, but steadied himself against a bookshelf, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re on about, could you explain?”

Aziraphale blushed, “Well it’s just that you seemed to like her an awful lot and, she liked you even more than that – if you catch my drift – and well, she was as good as anyone if you wanted to try… well. That thing that humans do sometimes. Apparently, it’s terribly good. Better than sushi even.”

He didn’t rightfully know what girl Aziraphale was even yammering on about but he caught on a particular phase. _She was as good as anyone._ As if.

There were a few intermediate incidents but it culminated when they were sitting in the park, throwing bread at ducks (feeding bread to the ducks, whatever, same difference), in an unusually serious mood, when Aziraphale asked him, “Can demons love?”

Crowley swallowed hard, “Sure.” In fact, he was even more certain than that.

The one good thing about it, is that if he doesn’t know by now then he never will, so he can be a bit more obvious about things. Like turning up to the bookshop with chocolates for example, or rescuing those books from the Nazi’s. Things like that.

The bad thing is the wondering. He knew before that Aziraphale didn’t love him back, or else Aziraphale would have acknowledged his feelings and they would have flown off into the sunset, or some sappy crap like that. Except now he didn’t know that at all, because Aziraphale didn’t know and maybe if he told him all those fantasies might be able to come true. Because just maybe, Aziraphale liked him back.

They went out together, and they were sort of like dates. He remembered his favourite restaurants and bought him potted plants and recommended him murder mysteries with increasingly convoluted plots. And he called him “dear”. That meant something, right? But then again, it was easy to convince yourself to see what you wanted to see. It was a very human weakness, very useful in temptations.

Sometimes he thought maybe he didn’t love Aziraphale at all. He felt like he did, but if Aziraphale didn’t sense it, maybe it was just a facsimile, an inferior demon equivalent.

A few decades later they were sat in the backroom of the bookshop, drinking wine (because some things don’t change) and Aziraphale leans forwards on his elbows, “You know I’m quite in love with you.” And then he brings his hand to his mouth in a pantomime of shock. There’s a few second pause where Crowley can only assume he’s waiting for someone to smite him, then he laughs very sweetly. His eyes crinkle in the corners, and Crowley thinks if his heart swells any more he might discorporate. Then his smile abruptly vanishes, “I know you don’t feel the same, I’d feel it after all if you did and I get that we’re on opposite sides and all that-”

“Angel,” Crowley whispers, cutting through the rambling effortlessly. But he finds he can’t succinctly sum the total of how he feels for Aziraphale into a single phrase. He just stares hopelessly at him, from across the table. “I’d walk on consecrated ground for you.” Then he realises he _had_ done that and buries his face in his hands to conceal his growing blush.

For a second, Aziraphale just looks at Crowley with the deepest confusion. Then he realises the very obvious reason he can’t sense Crowley’s love. It’s for the same reason that people in Trafalgar Square can’t see England.

 


End file.
